They Walk Away
by MiravsStella
Summary: Sometimes, a sacrifice is required to reach an ultimate goal, and Lightning wonders who's really the victim here.  Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy XIII.


They were standing in front of each other.

He was standing tall and proud, as discipline and years of military service had taught him to do. His stance was not at ease whatsoever; he was stiff from standing about, giving both relevant and non-relevant instructions aboard the _Lindblum_. Only the other day, he'd had to harp after the engineers when their engines nearly succumbed to sudden bad weather- perhaps the fal'Cie Phoenix knew what he was up to. He was wearing what he always wore- the uniform of a brigadier general of the Guardian Corps. His gray eyes are boring into hers.

Her stance was uneasy; despite having her weight shifted onto only one foot, with her arms crossed over her chest and partially hiding her bolt-shaped pendant from view, she was tensed, muscles sometimes twitching (whether she knew it or not), ready to leap into action should the time come. She was stiff as well, from days hiking through the Vile Peaks and the Gapra Whitewood to Palumpolum, and from throwing herself in front of Hope in time to catch a particularly painful bite from a Thexteron. Her crystal blue eyes were making a point of avoiding his.

Her words were sharp and biting- purposefully, of course.

"What do you want, sir?"

He wasn't sure if the 'sir' was sarcastic or serious.

"I merely have a… proposition, of sorts," he replied, wondering if she would even take an interest. With Lightning, it was hard to tell.

"Oh?" Her answer was accompanied by one raised eyebrow. She reached up absentmindedly to brush a strand of pink hair out of her eyes, and finally met his own. "What do you mean by that?"

He almost smiled wryly to himself; he didn't need words for what happened next. Slowly, to show that he didn't mean harm (Lightning's hand had twitched toward her saber), he rolled up his left sleeve and bared his wrist to her.

In an instant, a fist slammed into his stomach, forcing him to double over before he was forced backward violently by a sword at his neck.

"What the hell, Raines?" she hissed, eyes wide with cold fury and outrage.

"Would you have believed me if I told you?" he asked smoothly.

A kind of dark amusement entered her eyes. To his great surprise, she sheathed the Blazefire Saber and back away from him. "After everything that's gone on?" she asked, laughing bitterly. "Why should I be shocked?"

Cid studied her carefully, watching her for any signs that she was trying to catch him off guard (knowing that at the same time, she was doing the same to him). He found none apart from suspicion and- though he knew she wouldn't admit it- curiosity.

"What's your focus?" she demanded after a few moments. It shouldn't surprise him that she would ask that question.

"To put you on the path to destroying Cocoon."

Lightning scowled, her hand inching towards her gunblade again; this time he grabbed her wrist, knowing that he could not allow her to kill him.

"Hear me out first," he said quietly. "I don't plan on following this path. You and your companions have the right amount of determination, but I need to play my part."

"And that would be…?"

"Next time we meet, we'll be enemies." He drew in a breath, knowing that this would be the more difficult part. He knew that Lightning would be difficult to convince. "In order to topple the corruption within Cocoon's government, I have to become primarch."

She snorted.

"Dysley's the one who had me become a l'Cie in the first place. The only reason he'll let me get to that position is if I perish beforehand. Therefore, when we next meet, it will be more convenient for the both of us. You get me out of your way, I get what I want. Of course, there's a high chance of Dysley just letting me be dead afterwards."

He waited a moment for this to sink in. Then the fist came flying again; this time, he caught it.

"Are you insane?" she shouted, her voice reverberating off the walls, pure rage making her quake. He could feel her shaking slightly, and her other hand scrabbled desperately for her saber. He sighed inwardly, and took the other hand as well.

"You… you…" she spluttered a few moments, seemingly at a loss for words. "Arrogant bastard!" she finally shouted.

He cocked an eyebrow at the name.

"You really think," she whispered, voice itself shaking, "That I'm going to… that I even _can_…"

"It's not a question of can or can't," he replied softly; he tightened his grip on her hands. "Is it, Claire?"

"Shut it," she snarled.

"Will you, or won't you?"

She didn't answer.

The silence was unbearable; he realized that her hands (which were calloused from years of fighting and training, but he shouldn't have been one to talk) were still in his, but he felt no inclination to let go, despite the fact that etiquette demanded that he do so. Was it too much to ask, that they have normal lives for once- where the simple warmth of a hand was trivial?

He almost laughed, already knowing the answer to that question.

"What's in it for you?" she asked.

"The satisfaction that comes with taking revenge on my slavers."

"I'll do it," she said; he blinked in surprise several times. He hadn't expected her to agree that easily. The way she said it was utterly flat, and her eyes betrayed nothing. He searched in them for some sort of emotion, but could identify none.

She quickly slipped out of his grasp, turning her back on him like she was going to walk away, just like that.

"If I didn't trust you, my back wouldn't be exposed," she said. Without warning, she pivoted around, bringing out her blazefire saber with a fluent motion, the cold metal pressed against his neck. Her face was inches from his, but he wasn't frightened.

Her voice became a deadly lace of poison. "But if _anyone_ else is hurt by your actions," she hissed, "I will follow you into death, bring you back, and kill you again."

Then the blade was gone, back into its sheath quicker than he could even count seconds. She was heading out of the hangar, to her room on the ship.

"I have a question, Sergeant Farron," he stated abruptly.

A snort. "What?"

"If I had asked to you to assist me all the way through my mission- meaning you would accompany me to the Sanctum, and die alongside me- would you do it?"

She paused, shifting her weight so that her head could swing around. "I have other priorities," she whispered. "My sister, for example… but she has Snow, and I do trust him. Somewhat."

He waited.

Her crystal eyes darkened with sadness. "I just said I'd follow you into hell, sir," she said. "What do you think my answer's going to be?"

* * *

If there was one thing that Claire "Lightning" Farron hated, it was irony.

They were down to being desperate. Fang was barely holding out, only now able to use her Sentinel ability and using Steelguard as best as she could, her knees trembling from each impact that Cid Raines landed on her. Hope was beaten and bruised, shooting Cures at Fang as quickly as humanly possible. Snow and Sazh were both unconscious, and Vanille was groaning on the ground, cradling what was probably a broken leg.

Lightning crouched behind Fang's defensive position. Her chest was on fire; she was certain that she had several broken ribs. At that moment, the best she could do was to provide some gun assistance, but he completely outmatched her in hand-to-hand combat. While she knew he couldn't make this too easy, she also knew that he was going a little far.

She'd seen a number of openings in which a shot could be fatal, but her hesitation always caused her to be a split second too late, and he would raise his Guard against her. His gray eyes would almost mock her, sharing their small secret, saying, "What are you waiting for?"

Damn him.

She had little choice; she quickly flipped over Fang, who was still crouched in Steelguard, and Hope, who was panicking and nearly letting his Cures fly out of control. Lightning ignored Fang's concerned yell as she ducked beneath one of Raines' punches (which would probably break more bones), and did one of the most trivial tricks in the book.

She kicked his feet out from under him.

Or at least, she tried to. This was Brigadier General Cid Raines, even if he was a lying l'Cie.

Like a snake, he reached out and grabbed her ankle, before whipping her up and slamming her face-down into the ground. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as a resounding crack occurred in the arm she'd landed on. Blindly, she lashed out with her weapon and was surprised to hear a grunt, before the grip on her ankle vanished.

She scrambled upright, before the pain in her arm nearly made her scream and black out. She thought she might be sick when she saw the bone protruding through her skin, and the agony made pure, soldier instinct take over. Her blade quickly changed into a gun.

The blood spurting from his arm- one of his first injuries- had distracted him before the first bullet hit him. One, two, three.

Their eyes met for what would probably be that last time. There was undying gratitude there, which made her want to scream profanities at him.

How she hated him for it.

How she couldn't help but love him.

Their eyes burned into each other, before the blue light surrounded him, and his form turned to immoveable crystal. Lightning stared at it, before it dissolved before her eyes.

Cure spells were cast, Phoenix Downs were given, and they were on their way through the Fifth Ark. Lightning felt a cold seep through her that she hadn't felt in a while.

She looked down at her chest, where she imagined a torn, bleeding hole where her heart had been.


End file.
